


Sleeping in Sunshine

by AnEmoApparently



Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series)
Genre: And history, Bad Parents, Fairies, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Trans Male Character, fae, neglect??? i guess, playing very fast and loose with the rules of the fae, this is a fae au what else can i say, trans!Emile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21951847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnEmoApparently/pseuds/AnEmoApparently
Summary: The four times Remy asked Emile's name and the one time he gave it.
Relationships: Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Comments: 26
Kudos: 97





	Sleeping in Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miscellaneous_Ace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miscellaneous_Ace/gifts).



> Hello!  
> ok so this was a monster to write- I started out with the idea this would be 2000 words and it really got away from me. I've spent far too much time on this, and I'm proud of where it's at, hopefully, because it's my Christmas gift to the amazing Miscellaneous_Ace
> 
> Please know that I have blatantly disregarded like 80% of how a time period like this actually works because this is fiction and I don't care, and also that any and all fae and magic-based things are based on only my knowledge so it's not suuuuper accurate (also if u believe in the fae don't ever do this Emile is not a good example)  
> Final note, while I'm not cis, I am not a trans man so if anything of how I've written this character is disrespectful please let me know so I can do more research and correct it! (update: turns out that was a lie, actually, i just hadn't quite realised it yet. still feel free to call me out tho!)  
> thanks for reading!  
> -Emo

1

Emily Picani was a smart girl. She knew how to read (after her parents had realised that she was basically blind and really did need glasses), and she knew a lot about people, and she knew not to go into the forest alone.

However, while Emily was generally a smart girl, she did not always make smart decisions.

She’d been told dozens of times by her parents, neighbours, and most especially her grandmother that she shouldn’t go into the forest. She knew they were afraid of it. She knew all of the stories- she’d read dozens of books telling sometimes delightful and sometimes gruesome tales, and she knew very well all the reasons why she shouldn’t.

That didn’t mean that she didn’t.

You see, the forest fascinated Emily, and so did the concept of The Others that lived there. Not that she would ever admit that anyone out loud.

Yes, her family’s little farm was all very interesting, but she didn’t much like the sorts of things her mother had her do or the sort that her father wouldn’t let her. So instead, she did exactly what she shouldn’t, and spent far too much time exploring the trees and hollows and hidden paths in the forest.

Oh, sure, she filled her pockets with iron filings and holly berries, to be safe, and copied the little rituals her grandmother practised for protection, but one is never truly safe with these kinds of creatures, only left alive for the moment.

But Emily had complete confidence in herself, in the way that only children could. She had explored the area of the forest nearest to her house inside and out over her childhood, and really, never found anything that mysterious, or dangerous, or in any way indicative of the strange creatures she’d been warned so much about, and secretly wanted to learn more of.

That was, until one day, when Emily suddenly wished she hadn’t been quite so bold.

She had been playing, enjoying a story of her own devising, where she was a great wizard with power over the elements. Her story called her to find sacred objects to return power to the land, (which in reality were different, particularly pretty looking rocks) and it also pulled her deeper into the forest than she had ever wandered before.

She was just mumbling to herself the dramatic, musical climax of her story, with various dums, dees and das, as she jumped around, when she noticed that something was wrong.

Suddenly, the area around her felt colder, despite the warmth of spring that had surrounded her just prior.

She froze in place, watching her breath puff out into the chilled air in front of her. She saw the briars, with thorns that looked as if they were coated in sharp, deadly metal, and the trees that seemed that much taller, now towering over her even more, and she heard the eerie silence that had overtaken the bird and bug song.

“This is fine,” she said, quietly but cheerfully to herself, forcing a smile onto her face, as she tried to decide what to do. Her hands found their way into her pockets, grasping at the iron filings

She heard a branch snap behind her, and she spun, a scream on her lips, not considering how much more sense it would make to remain quiet.

She expected to see a monster standing there- a beast with a large gaping maw, come to gobble her up, or one of the strange, ethereal moonlit beings of her fairy tales.

Instead, she saw a boy, about her age, although much stranger, grinning at her

“You know,” said the boy with a smile filled with too sharp teeth, “It’s kinda rude to lie in company that can’t.”

Emily felt her jaw drop and her body freeze up once more. This boy looked nothing like the tales she read. He had no skin woven of moonlight or eyes hewn of gems and blessed with stars. In fact, he looked rather like a normal person, but just slightly to the left enough to be unsettling. His limbs were just slightly too long, and his teeth just slightly too sharp, his ears were pointed, and twitching, and his curly red hair looked like it had strings of gold and amber woven through it. Had he not addressed her so, and had they met anywhere else, she may have thought him human.

“Staring is also considered rude in most places, but I’ll let you off with that one, considering I _am_ particularly cute,” the boy spoke again.

Yes, his teeth definitely were far too sharp to be human.

“Um, Hello?” Emily said, finding the voice that had until then died in her throat, and trying her best approximation of a curtsey, the way she had seen her mother do it. (She only managed to trip over her feet and settled for a bow instead).

The boy’s smile, somehow, widened further, and he stuck out a hand for her to shake- his left hand, actually, which he didn’t seem to see a problem with. She shook it as quickly as she could, and then returned her own hands to her pockets, playing with the iron filings.

“May I have your name,” the boy asked, and he looked like he was trying to remember something he had to recite.

“You can call me Em,” she said after some deliberation.

He looked slightly disappointed, and Emily knew it was because she had seen around his trick, although, he brightened momentarily.

“Oh well,” he said with a grin and a shrug, “It was worth a shot. I didn’t really want to trick you anyway.”

Emily didn’t know how to respond to that, blinking owlishly at his sudden change of mood. This boy was very strange, she thought, and not at all easy to understand like most of the people she knew.

“What shall I call you?” she asked eventually, when she realised that he seemed to be waiting on her.

“Oh, huh, I hadn’t thought of that. You’re very clever,” he said looking truly taken aback. He paused a moment, sticking his tongue out through his teeth as he thought, “You can call me Sleep, I guess.”

“Sleep it is,” she murmured, wondering silently why he would choose something like that. She really shouldn’t wonder so much; she might start asking questions. And she figured, that by now that might not be a smart decision.

But then again, Emily Picani wasn’t known for smart decisions.

Although, it seemed she wasn’t the only one with questions.

“So, Em, what are you doing out here? The forest really isn’t safe for little girls, you know,” he said, fake-serious. He really should have been real-serious.

“What about little boys?” she shot back defiantly, delighted when this caused him to grin rather than glare.

“Well, little boys shouldn’t be out all alone either. Good thing we found each other, huh?” he said waltzing forward and grabbing onto her arm. He was surprisingly strong for someone who looked so gangly.

He was so strange.

“You’re not human, are you?” she found the question past her lips before she had even thought it over.

He laughed at her, bright and clear, “Oh you _are_ clever. I like you. No, I’m not human, but why does that matter? I have a bright and charming personality regardless, which is what should matter.”

She was surprised that he would admit it so honestly, but then again, she had a feeling that perhaps Sleep wasn’t particularly normal by human standards, _or_ his own people’s for that matter.

“I’m sure you light up some people’s world,” she said, the pun coming to her naturally, but surprising her with the ease that she spoke to him. The way that he laughed and smiled back only encouraged her.

“Oh, I do, I do like you little Em,” he crowed, “I think I should keep you around… It would be nice to have someone to play with.”

She frowned a little at that. She didn’t have any intention of becoming a plaything for the good neighbours. She had enough sense at least to try and avoid that at least.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind playing with you, Sleep, but you would have to let me go home, if you wanted me to come back and not simply pass out from exhaustion,” she said, trying to avoid any firm promises and also trying to sound smart, one thing she had learned from her grandmother, and one she was trying to convince herself of.

He looked for a moment like he was considering something very important.

“Well, I know that you come to the forest every day to play. If you agree to play with _me_ whenever you come here, then I will let you go and do whatever it is you humans do for the rest of the time, no harm done.”

She looked him carefully up and down, trying to find any hint of malice in his face, or any twisted meaning to his words. Seeing none, she decided, as children very often do, to disregard most of her earlier concerns in favour of a new playmate.

“It’s a deal,” she said, grinning, forgetting one fundamental rule in that moment.

And she would not remember this mistake for some time, if at all, in favour of playing with Sleep.

Because, with him around, the woods, even the darker, sharper and more dangerous sections didn’t seem as scary. He had a way of putting the situation at ease. He lifted up the briars with a stick longer than he was tall, grinning and making a show of wounding himself, even as not one thorn scratched him.

He dragged Em the long way around a stream because he swore up and down there was ‘something in there out to get him’ that she ‘probably didn’t want to see if she didn’t want super super weird nightmares’.

Quickly, Em discovered he was quite the drama queen, and more than a bit of a scatterbrain, although that only made her laugh all the more when he fell out of a tree and complained that he ‘would never ever ever in all his life come back here,’ because he was ‘not going to put up with such dishonest and bullying behaviour’ from the tree.

At the same time that he was completely unlike any human she had ever met; he was also very much like every human child she knew. He was strange, but she couldn’t find it in herself to mind. Instead she was intrigued, filled with as many questions as she was ideas for games to play.

What felt like hours later, when the sun began to set, Sleep even helped Em to find her way home. It took a little convincing first, because he still wanted to play not even feeling a little tired, but at Emily’s insistence, he guided her through various paths from the darker, mysterious part of the forest, into the part where trees were just a little bit too big instead of dangerously so.

When they reached the edge, he stopped, not passing the line of trees.

“You’ll come back tomorrow?” he asked, eyes pleading.

She nodded, unable to stop herself from smiling.

“Then I’ll meet you here,” he said patting the tree he leaned against. “I’ll find you. I don’t want you to get lost in the woods and have one of my family find you instead. They care a lot more about those traditions and weird adult word games than I do, and I don’t want you to get hurt. So, it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to wander around on your own.”

Quietly, Emily thought that it hadn’t been a good idea for her to go out in the first place, or to meet Sleep again either, but she just nodded, and smiled, and ran towards her house ahead of her, in the setting sun, throwing a wave over her shoulder.

That night she was uncharacteristically quiet at the dinner table, not recounting the many adventures of her day and instead focusing on her meal far too intensely. Her parents barely noticed, too busy corralling her five other siblings. And she herself was too absorbed in thought to see the look her grandmother gave her over the tops of her glasses.

That night when all was quiet save for the shuffling of her sisters in the beds near hers, she thought she heard a whisper, from somewhere far away brushing against her ear.

“Sweet dreams,” it said, “Sleep well.”

2

Emily Picani was a smart girl. She learned how to knit and sew far faster than her sisters, she could easily tell a liar from someone telling the truth and she knew that fae were dangerous.

Emily was not, however, known for putting her wisdom into practice.

If you visited the fae once or twice and still remained completely aware and not charmed or, more likely, dead, then perhaps you could be excused. But Emily didn’t just visit once or twice.

She found herself in the forest almost every day for three years.

She would finish her chores and her mother’s lessons as quickly as she could, (which was much faster than you would think, because Emily _was_ a smart girl) and then she would run off to the woods before her parents could find something else for her to do.

They barely noticed she was missing, really- or rather, they noticed she wasn’t around but were grateful for the reprieve from her loud and boisterous manner and incessant questions and weren’t particularly worried that she would get hurt.

So, she was free to disappear and play with a friend that no one, especially not her grandmother would approve of.

This day was no different from any other. She had finished mending the boy’s clothes and cleaning the house and setting out things for dinner, before she bolted from the house, ignoring any calls her grandmother threw after her.

She got to their tree, as usual, earlier than Sleep, and rummaged around inside the hollow that had become her hidey hole for anything important. And, most important and relevant in that moment was the pair of pants she kept there.

Her mother and sisters liked to insist that ‘she was a young lady that should dress like one’ and while she rather liked the pretty colours and stitching that complicated ladies skirts sometimes had, she did not like the fact they were… well… skirts, so she had stolen a pair of her brothers too small-pants, and had made much better use of them than he did, if she did say so herself.

She changed, and then slumped down by the tree, staring up at the pretty jade green leaves and daydreaming about nothing in particular, when she heard a thud and saw Sleep land, and stumble a little, in front of her, after jumping from one of the branches above.

Immediately she jumped to her feet, giving him a large hug.

“It took you long enough!” she exclaimed, grinning.

“Hello to you too, sunshine,” Sleep said with a laugh, “I’m sorry I was late, there were some… issues.”

His smile was too sharp and brittle to be real.

She looked at him, concerned, and frowned.

“With your family or The Others?” she asked, poking and prodding him, trying to check for injuries.

“It was fi-“ he cut off and frowned.

“Ok, maybe not but like, you totally shouldn’t worry about it,” He amended.

“Well, it’s clearly not fine if you can’t say it.”

“It is no longer a problem.”

She chewed her lip worriedly. It was always concerning to hear about drama with the good neighbours. Of course, she knew that it was perfectly normal with them, but she didn’t want Sleep to be hurt.

“Well, let it be known that I am concerned, especially because you can’t even say that it’s ok out loud, mister”

“You’re like, overreacting and stuff,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, don’t go getting into trouble again, then.”

He smiled a little, “I don’t think either of us could stop me if we tried, Em.”

“You know- you know what that’s probably fair.”

“Yes, exactly. Now!” he said, suddenly clapping his hands together, “I have an idea.”

“And what would that be, Sleep?”

“Well, it’s like, our third anniversary of meeting each other, did you know that?” he said grinning, “And I heard that you humans get gifts for each other on anniversaries or whatever, so I thought hey, maybe we could do that.”

“Well first off, that’s for people that are _romantically_ involved, which we aren’t so jot that down, and second off, even if we did get gifts, that’s today and I don’t have anything for you,” Em said, frowning.

“You could always give me your name,” Sleep said, mischievously.

“I- oh so _that’s_ what this was about you cheeky little- urgh! No, I’m not giving you my name!”

“But Emmmmmmm,” he said with fake puppy dog eyes that immediately told Emily he was kidding and found the whole situation hilarious, “Aren’t we friends?”

Her grandmothers warning danced through her head, as they did every time Sleep pulled one of his silly tricks, but she found herself listening to every one of them less and less. Especially, ‘You cannot be friends with the fae’.

“Of course we’re friends, silly, but I’m not going to give you _my_ name any more than you would give me yours.”

“What if I did give you mine,” Sleep said, grinning wildly.

“Then I would probably have to eat my rock collection… Well, maybe not quite so extreme, rose quartz would not be a fun thing to try and eat, if you’re me- because yes Sleep I am aware that you eat various dumb things that I defiantly couldn’t”

“Oh, all right then. But, like, for real though I did have an idea for something that we could do, because, like, three years is a long time for you humans, isn’t it?”

“Well, I guess, but how long something is really is relitv-“

“Fantastic, that’s perf,” he says, grabbing Emily hand and pulling her through the woods.

“What exactly are you thinking?” Emily gasped between panting breaths and laughter.

“That we should totally,” Sleep said, picking her up to jump over a new fallen tree in one of the many familiar paths of the forest, “Build a tree house.”

He set her down not a moment later, in front of a huge, solid old oak tree, that would take several people with arms stretched right out to wrap their arms all the way around it.

It was not unique in a forest as old and full of magic as this one, but it was still pretty damn cool to look at.

Emily stared at it, stunned for a moment, then turned to Sleep.

“Is this in a part of the forest where you can like, change things easily?” she asked, “Because I don’t think I could manage to take very much from my parents, and I’d feel bad if I did, so I can’t really help much that way.”

“Nah, you’re fine Sunshine,” Sleep said, already climbing up the tree, and onto one of the huge branches, and beckoning Emily to follow, “You’re on ideas duty, considering you have all those fancy stories in your head.”

Emily clamoured up into the tree after him, already thinking a mile a minute. They sat together in the tree for ages, making countless plans and moving about, figuring out which branches would be good for what things.

When Emily went home that night, she was still buzzing with excitement, as sleep promised that for the next day he would have (somehow) found everything they could possibly need to make their tree fort.

And, as she had become used to over the past three years, that voice whispered into her ear, “Sweet dreams, Sunshine, and good night.”

And indeed, he did have the materials (mostly magical ones) the next day, and over the next several years, the treehouse became a safe haven for both of them. It was one of the only places deeper in the forest that Emily could get to reliably, with some exceptions, because they’d trodden the path solidly into the forest’s memory.

They upgraded it and added to it as their interests changed. They added back entrances, rope sings, blankets and cushions stolen from both homes and usually worn half to death. Sleep added glowing lights and pressed magical carvings into the wood getting more interesting and complex and strong as he learned about his magic (he was, after all, a child just like Em, even if a different kind). And Emily painted stories from her books of tales, (all now stacked in their hideaway, out there instead of in her room) and her grand imagination all across the walls, and they both often found they were more at home there than with their families.

It was a space that was truly theirs.

Emily might not have given Sleep her name, but some would say she’d shared something even more precious.

3

Em Picani was smart- able to read, write, tell stories and charm people within moments of meeting them, but also intimidate them with that intelligence.

Because being smart wasn’t something girls were really supposed to be.

Em was a lot of things girls weren’t supposed to be. She was outspoken, loud, brave, and loved the outdoors. She was secretive, charming- but not in a sweet or demur way- a little cunning and bold. She hated dresses, but loved bright colours, and would rather wear pants than skirts, she wanted to be able to write and create and be smart without being written off.

Em was a lot of things girls weren’t supposed to be, and especially smart… Smart enough to realise that he wasn’t a girl. Emily Picani was intelligent and sharp and witty and… Not Emily Picani, he decided, but Emile.

He knew, that even if tomorrow the world was turned on its head, and everything that he was girls were allowed to be, he still wouldn’t be one. He was a boy, and he’d finally come to terms with it.

Emile was a lot of things that boys were supposed to be, except for recognised as one.

Because, yes, Emile was a smart _boy_ , but he lived in a world where no one else thought that.

Well, he hoped that after today, there would at least be one somebody.

Yeah, sure Emile knew he shouldn’t be going into the forest, his grandmother had drilled that into him since before he could walk. And sure, he knew better than to tell the fae secrets, at least in theory, but it had been years since he had kept anything from Sleep. He was his best friend, after all and he was often (if not always) more comfortable around him than the extended Picani family.

Sleep knew him better than he knew himself a lot of the time- and whether that was because he was fae or simply because they were friends, he would never be able to tell. But he trusted him. He trusted him to understand him when no one else would.

They’d done so much for each other. Emile had all but given up lying because it made Sleep uncomfortable, and he’d long since stopped carrying iron filings in his pockets. The only fae repellent weapons he kept were stored safely in a place that would not damage Sleep, but Emile could access if there was a squabble with another fae. Which had never happened yet, with Sleeps dutiful protection.

And Sleep, well Sleep had welcomed Emile with every single one of his quirks, his intelligence and interests. He’d found or made trousers and shirts that more suited Emile’s clothing sense, and made the tree house a safe haven for both of them. Even though he surely could have killed Emile in an instant if he tried, now, or tricked him into some other bond, he’d never tried.

Sleep wasn’t a child anymore, and neither was Emile, and yet against all odds their friendship persisted, even as Sleep’s power and Other nature grew, and Emile’s responsibilities pulled him away from the forest more and more often.

So yeah, Emile had little doubt that Sleep would accept him for what he had learned of himself, but that did not mean he wasn’t still hesitant to tell him.

The day he decided to commit to it, was a day just like any other for them- they met much later in the afternoon now, because Emile had to do the work of a proper ‘lady’ in the house, not just a child, which meant it was often not until into the afternoon that he could sneak away.

And it was indeed late afternoon that found him waiting as usual under their tree- not the house, but the one at the edge of the forest, where he’d wait sometimes if he didn’t trust the path.

“Hey babes, what’s up?” is the first thing he’s greeted to by Sleep, who appears as usual from nowhere. It was much harder to spot him in the late afternoons of autumn, with so much of him blending in. (Some of it was natural- his hair changing like the colours of the autumn leaves, shining and mesmerising, and some of it was the magic he pulled around himself to disappear and torment Emile).

Emile managed a slight grin, pushing himself from the tree and wiping his damp palms on the skirt he had no choice but to wear when coming from home.

He opened his mouth, ready to greet him, ready to tell him, ready even to say that he had _something_ to tell him, but he found all the words died in his throat.

“I dunno. Just thinking about some stuff, I guess,” he said, and the lie felt like acid on his tongue. One would think he’d been cursed to tell the truth, rather than it being self-imposed.

“Uh-uh gurl that is an absolute indicator that we need to sit down and talk about stuff, don’t you try and pull that shit with me. If I say shit like that you jump straight to trying to solve my problems so now I’m gonna have to return the favour,” Sleep said, and linked their arms together, he didn’t seem to notice Emile’s flinch at the address.

He pulled Emile along the path, well warn between the tree line and their house. Em’s caution on that day was in fact proven justified, when they found part of it blocked off with the thorn bushes that looked made of metal and were still intimidating to this day. To Sleep, of course, they were nothing, banished with barely a wave of a hand, but Emile would have had far more trouble. And staying in one place that was not the tree house was decidedly dangerous in a forest like this.

There were no other issues however, and Emile found himself quickly ushered up the ladder of the tree house and pushed unceremoniously straight down onto one of the many pillows they had borrowed or otherwise relocated.

“So, babes, spill,” Sleep said, arms crossed.

“It’s not that much, really,” Emile found himself saying before he could help it. Lying really was second nature to humans, even the ones who schooled themselves so hard to be honest, it seemed.

Sleep scowled, clearly seeing the blatant lie. (Just because Emile could lie didn’t mean he was particularly good at it, you know).

Emile looked down at his skirts and then looked up at Sleep again.

“Do you know what? I’ll tell you, but you need to let me change first. I can’t stand to be in this a moment longer, and it is rather relevant,” he bargained, standing and moving towards one of the other small rooms they had created.

“Fine, but don’t think you can avoid this forever, sunshine!” Sleep sighed, slumping back against pillow and wall, absolutely undignified.

It always made Emile laugh a little when he did something like that. To the best of is knowledge, Sleep actually held some kind of importance in his court, and often had moments of that ethereal grace so often accredited to the fae, and yet there were plenty of other moments where he was simply all gangly limbs and ‘please believe I’m badass’ attitude.

He returned five minutes later, pants replacing skirt and hair tied back in a much more comfortable and personally acceptable manner.

“All right,” he said, sitting back down.

“Ok, gurl, what the Ef is up?” Sleep asked, staring him down.

Emile flinched again, just a little.

“Ok, yeah, uh here’s the thing. I’m not. ‘Gurl’ that is. I don’t consider myself to be a girl. I’m a boy,” he said, repeating himself, but not stumbling over the words.

Sleep looked at him blankly for a moment.

“So this is you like, asking me to use He and Him and seeing you as a boy, I’m guessing?” he asked and frowned at Emile’s hesitant nod, “Wait a minute, is this another one of those bullshit human things, do you guys not think people can be different genders? You seem like, far too nervous about this if that wasn’t the case.”

Emile felt something in him truly lighten in that moment. He hadn’t thought Sleep would completely reject him, but he hadn’t expected him to think it was so, well… normal.

“Yes, I would very much like you to do that… And, uh, no, not really…”

Sleep blinked at him owlishly for a moment, “Well, that’s stupid. But if humans don’t do that, then what made you realise if you don’t mind my asking?”

Emile shrugged a little sheepishly, “Well, I’d always felt something was a little bit off, you know. And, uh, it wasn’t all me really. Last week, when my family went into the village for the autumn celebration there was like, travelling performers there. And one of them- a sword swallower, he was a guy like me, and I had spoken to him briefly, obviously curious about his life, but then my parents pulled me away.”

He sighed a little, “They think that people like him- like me are sick, that they’ve been cursed or cursed themselves I guess.”

“Well, you know, this is just adding another tally to my ‘list of reasons why humans are dumb’ you know. If you say you’re a boy then you’re a boy, it’s not that difficult really. Like sure you guys can lie and stuff and that’s cool, but that’s just a total dick move. And we’re the ones with a reputation for being sadistic, honestly!” Sleep said dramatically, draping himself more horizontally across the pillows.

Emile laughed. It was just for a moment, but in that second he swore his heart would burst with love for his dramatic friend, he was so strange and funny, and the fact that he could say that with such confidence when he could not speak a lie, truly warmed Emile’s heart and calmed his fears. Emile loved Sleep and his ridiculous personality and ridiculously handsome face. Well. Ok, maybe that was a thought to categorise for later and Not Think About.

“So,” said Sleep, righting himself, “Babes, have you picked out a new name for yourself, I’m sure it’s super cool just like you.”

His grin was pointy and feral, and Emile laughed, shaking his head, so very used to his antics by now.

“C’mon Sunshine, you should totally tell me your name!” he was laughing now, clearly not even trying to be taken seriously.

“Real nice attempt there, buddy, perfect form, but no, not this time.”

Sleep made a show of being wounded, but eventually returned to a normal sitting position for him (which was to say, he splayed himself across the floor like some sort of cat stretching).

Emile laughed at him but ignored his antics in favour of picking up one of his books. It was a gift he had received recently, and he was yet to finish it.

“You know,” Sleep said, after a while of them sitting in companionable silence, “This probably means that even if you had told me your name before, it wouldn’t count anymore. And anyone that still knows you by that name has even less power over you than before.”

Emile looked up at him and smiled.

“That’s surprisingly good to hear… Thanks.”

There was another long silence.

“Do you like having long hair?” Sleep asked suddenly.

“What?” Emile looked up, confused this time.

“I said do you like having long hair, keep up Sunshine.”

“Well, I mean, no not really. I’d much rather have it shorter, but I’d be worried I’d make myself look ridiculous, and my parents would kill me.”

“Well, I _can_ make it look good,” he said waving his fingers about in a gesture that Emile could only interpret as ‘look at me I’m special I have magic’, “And quite honestly your parents can suck it.”

Emile had laughed at first, but with even the barest hint of an agreement from his lips Sleep pulled him about and got straight to work. His first action was to chop clear off the braid Emile had been wearing, and hand it to him triumphantly, smiling at the rope of golden hair. Then, he had gotten to work, doing stars knew what, removing large chunks and small strands, fluffing, smoothing and running his too long and bony fingers all through it. When he pulled back and announced himself done, Emile was suspicious of the results, but upon seeing himself in the mirrored glass he was presented he couldn’t help but gasp. He hardly recognised himself- definitely in a good way. He looked, almost, like his older brother, with the curly blond hair now cut short, curling around his ears and just bushing his eyebrows when not pushed back.

He leapt from his chair at a moment’s notice, squeezing Sleep into a tight hug.

“I love it,” he said, slightly tearfully, “Thank you.”

“Then, I give you this gift,” Sleep said, resting his hands on Emile’s head, “No strings attached, no payment needed, that for as long as you wish it, your hair shall not grow any longer than this.”

That was another thing he knew he wasn’t supposed to do with the fae- thank them or accept gifts. But it was Sleep, and he’d honestly just done one of the most amazing things he’d witnessed in all his life, so it really would have been remiss of him not to thank him.

After a few more moments of Emile’s tearful hug, they honestly spent the rest of the afternoon as they always did, sitting around, talking and sometimes doing their own thing in silence with each other. And that night, even as dusk began to fall, Emile was unwilling to leave. He didn’t want to go home and have to pretend to be someone else again. He knew he had to eventually, but for now he wanted to hold on to that sense of peace one moment longer.

And so, without even realising it, he drifted off to sleep on the floor and cushions of a tree house that had always felt that much more like a home than where his family lived. Distantly, he knew his parents, and especially his grandmother would be furious, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

That night, for the first time, he knew he could truly hear the voice when it whispered in his ear, “Good night, Sunshine. Sleep well,” while the body it belonged to carefully covered him in a blanket.

4

Emile Picani was a smart boy. All the people from the village asked him for advice on their problems, even though he was just eighteen, he could tell stories that enchanted the young and old alike and that was barely scratching the surface of the many, many things he could do.

Most people thought he was fantastic, if exceedingly odd. Of course, most people also thought that Emile was a girl, and spent his afternoons painting in the fields or reflecting in nature, which did detract from their opinions just a little.

And Emile was happy with that, mostly. He was happy to exist as he was, as long as he had the opportunity to escape, as he did as often as he could with Sleep.

Sleep, his best friend since childhood who he knew as well as he knew himself. Sleep, the boy he had watched grow from baby face to… strikingly handsome, and borderline beautiful. Sleep, the fae who strayed closest to the forest’s edge, and who knew enough about what he was to do it properly now, and still never used his magic against Emile. Sleep, who had done every single thing inside his power, which only extended so far out of the forest, to make Emile more like the man he was- who cut his hair, and found him clothes, and charmed his voice, and loved and accepted him as he was.

Sleep, who Emile had realised- or rather, admitted to himself- four months ago that he was in love with.

It was still strange to think about, that he’d finally owned up to it. (he hadn’t said anything to Sleep though, of course not, what do you think he was, an idiot?). It had taken years, and multiple thoughts that he had decided to ‘think about later’ and then never got around to.

But he was. He was hopelessly in love with his best friend, who also happened to be a fae of importance in his court.

He was in love with his beautiful face, freckled and sharp, his curly, autumn toned hair that shone in the sun, his perfect brow and his long, admittedly slightly gangly limbs. But he was also in love with the way he made him laugh, the way he didn’t always understand human things, but made an effort if Emile cared, the way he felt when he hugged him, and the sweetness he would speak to him with.

Emile could probably name any trait of Sleep’s and declare himself in love with it, because he was. And trust him, he knew this wasn’t a trick or curse. As soon as he was willing to admit it to himself, he tried every magical method he knew to detect or lift a curse, to learn about meddling magics and everything he could possibly try. And none of it helped, and he was forced to admit that it was all him, and his… feelings.

Usually Emile was good with feelings, though, apparently that didn’t apply to his own.

And after his brief tirade of trying everything under the sun to rid himself of a curse, he started returning to the forest again, and for every time he refused to answer Sleep on his absence, his heart grew a little heavier.

But he adapted, and accepted it, and internalised it, because _there was no way someone like Sleep would be interested in me. I’m mortal. My friendship is one thing, but that was quite another._ So, they went on as normal, and if Emile noticed the _Sleep_ noticed that something was wrong, neither would admit it.

Emile wouldn’t dare to disrupt something that was already working so well. Why do that for some simple feelings when the friendship they already had was so important.

So, it was normal. For a while at least. And then Emile’s parents had to go and destroy all of it.

He’d been told on a perfectly normal winters morning. He’d just finished cleaning up the hearth from the night before and getting ready to light a new fire for the rest of the day, when his mother and sisters had pulled him away. They’d refused to tell him what for, wittering away between each other as they pulled him and sat him down at the kitchen table.

His grandmother sat behind them, frowning at their antics, and throwing worried glances his way. He wasn’t sure how to interpret that, his grandmother had never seemed to like him, until recently.

Eventually, his mother stopped dancing about, and grinned widely.

“Darling, darling we have such wonderful news for you!” she announced, practically dancing in place. “We’ve found you a husband.”

Emile felt cold. This was terrible. He had tried so, so hard to avoid this. He had walked out on more than one conversation about it and had done everything in his power to ensure that none of the men in the village would be interested. 

He didn’t want a husband, not just because he was in love with Sleep, but because he knew that they would want him to move away, to live in the village or some other farm, and _leave_ his forest, and Sleep and everything that really mattered, and the only person that understood and accepted him as a man.

“Oh, look! She’s in shock, it’s so sweet!” twittered his youngest sister, Mary, who despite being only twelve had wanted a husband and her own family since forever. “Oh, I’m jealous, you’re so lucky Em, I thought we’d never do it!”

“Yes, it really is quite a miracle, it’s almost as if she’d been trying to avoid it,” Annie, his other sister said, with as much dry bite as she could manage, looking down her nose at him.

He squirmed in his seat.

“Now, girls,” his mother said, hushing them, “Emily may have made it a little difficult, with the short hair, and the pants, and the disappearing and the… general lack of approachability to suiters and…”

Emile knew that she was trying to find a way to say “and everything else” without sounding rude. And honestly, he was proud of that. Half of that was just who he was, but the other half had been a deliberate attempt to ward off such suitors. And it had apparently worked until now.

“Yes, that is rather a lot of difficult things to contend with, isn’t it,” said Annie, primly.

“Oh, but it’s soooo romantic that he decided he wants to marry her regardless, don’t you think Anne? I’m sure she’ll just love him- He’s so handsome! And I think that he like, thinks he’s rescuing her,” Mary said dreamily.

From behind them, in the doorway, Emile’s grandmother spoke up.

“Do you girls plan on hearing what Em has to say on the matter, or are you content to continue gossipin’ about the engagement like village hens?”

Emile was surprised, he’d never heard his grandmother speak in his defence in that way before.

They all looked in shock at their grandmother, before turning back to Emile, now waiting for him to say something.

“I think,” he said, hating how his voice shook, “I think I shall have to spend some time contemplating this. In nature.”

Then he stood from the table roughly and hurried out the door, ignoring the many calls after him and the clattering of his chair.

He hurried past the tree line, into the forest, and down the path. He had no idea if it was safe that day, and he didn’t care. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, all he knew was that he needed to be _not here_ and rather _there_. There, at the treehouse, there with Sleep, there away from that nightmare.

He stumbled along the path, basically running blind, and up, into the treehouse. The first thing he did was change out of his dress, the second was collapse in a heap on the cushions.

Not too long after, he felt a hand on his arm, and without thinking threw himself towards it. He could tell in a moment that it was Sleep, from just the touch, but even more so for burying his face in his shirt. He smelled of crisp autumn leaves even in the winter, and soft, earthy scents like mushrooms.

Emile barely managed to get his story out, between gasps for breath and his body shaking.

He was sure that Sleep could tell, just by listening to his thoughts. The thoughts screaming, _I don’t want this. I want anything but this._

Sleep gently stroked his hair and listened to him speak. When he was done, he pulled him tighter against him, and calmed him gently.

“Babes, what do you want me to do?” he asked, seriously, his jet dark eyes glinting.

“There’s nothing you can do… I can’t… there’s nothing I can think of that will fix this- I can’t, my family will disown me if I don’t…” he sighed.

“You could stay with me, Sunshine?

“Don’t be silly, Sleep. They’d come looking and take me away. And then they’d be after you too”

“No, babes, I meant it. You could stay here with me. You promised me, back when we were kids, that your time here in the forest would be spent with me. If you stay in this forest, they can’t take you away from me, if you don’t want to go. Promises with the fae are binding, you know that,” he said, seriousness coating his features in an unfamiliar pattern.

“Oh,” said Emile, for a moment, hope blossoming in his chest, only to be crushed by reality. “Oh, I wish I could Sleep, but… I don’t belong here. I can come, and visit you- you’re not the problem, but I’m… I’m just a human. I couldn’t truly live out here…”

It hurt. There wasn’t much flowery language that could dance about that, he was, simply put, sad.

Sleep frowned.

“I’m sure I could find a way to work around that- I have magic, I have people who _know_ magic. I could, I could find something. I could do something, anything. I would- I’d do anything to keep you here with me Em- Hell, if only you’d tell me your name I could end all this right now and-” he said frantically, hands dancing around, and voice clipped.

In that moment, Emile could really see the fae shining through- he wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a little scary. He’d never really believed Sleep when he’d asked him for his name before, never thought that there would be a moment when he would actually fear the question, and it scared him. But after a second, he calmed, he breathed deeply like Emile had taught him for dealing with bad emotions and steadied himself.

“If it is what you want, Em, I will find a way to stop this. Be it keeping you here, or some other way of removing _him_ I will do it- but only if that’s what you want. I will look into any option- What’s the point of being a prince if I can’t, find a solution to this- but I won’t use any of these options without you asking first. I swear it to you,” he declared, and the rush of magic this time was palpable.

Oh. _Oh_ , he thought. _Sleep_ _is a prince_ , he thinks first, stunned. His second thought could not be distilled down into so simple a sentence. It was more a vague amalgamation of emotions- gratitude at the offer, regret at having thought he would ever hurt him really, doubt in his ability to do anything, and mostly pure, shining love.

“Thank you,” he whispers softly, “I- I don’t think that I can choose that but thank you…”

There’s a long moment of silence, and he realises in that moment that he can’t leave with these things left unsaid.

“I- Sleep, you’re my best friend in the world and it would hurt so much to be apart from you but… I couldn’t stand to be with you all the time either, because- because-” he felt like he was choking on the words, like his throat was filled with precious stones that didn’t want to come forward, until they all spilled out in one moment, “Because I’m in love with you and I couldn’t stand to have you so close, all the time, and not, not have that, but I know I can’t, because you’re- you’re you- you’re fae, and a prince apparently to boot and I’m just the mortal boy who fell into every stereotypical trap. So, thank you for the offer, but I can’t.”

And then he turned and fled for the second time that day before he could even look at Sleep’s face. He cried, alone, in his room that night, when even his sisters were avoiding him.

When he fell asleep, he didn’t expect to even hear the voice that whispered in his ear, but he did. And it said, “Sleep well,” but it felt like it was calling him home. It felt like, “I miss you,” and “I’ll protect you.” it felt like his heartbreaking, and he couldn’t do anything to fix it.

\+ 1

The day that Emile met his fiancé was not a good one.

It was freezing cold, but his mother hand forced him into the fanciest dress he owned, which was far thinner than was appropriate for this kind of weather, and they expected him to walk into the village with them.

The walk felt longer than usual. He tried to focus on something other than the cold air stinging his lungs or nipping his skin. So, instead, he thought. He thought about his fiancé, his fate, and future. And the niggling reminder of Sleep’s promise. Well, he tried not to think about that one, honestly. But out of all his concerns, that was the only one that didn’t leave him feeling as cold as the winter he walked in.

He still knew nothing about his fiancé, not even his name. There were a dozen eligible young men in the village it could be, and Emile would be happy with… none of them. Not a single one.

Once, he thought he could have accustomed himself to the idea. And then he realised two integral things to his whole… being, and suddenly he didn’t think he could.

These thoughts were such a dark, spiralling hole he barely noticed when they finally arrived in the village, and his mother and sisters pulled insistently at his arms to guide him.

There was only one other family at the village square, that morning, everyone else inside like smart people, and in seeing them- Well, if Emile had been cold before he was practically frozen now.

With no one else in sight, there were no other options, and the panic bubbled lowly in Emile’s stomach.

Fredrick Jackson, and his father, grandfather, mother and sisters, stood by the frozen village fountain. Fredrick, whose family were known for being hunters and trappers and their cold, cruel nature. Which was all well and, well, bad on its own, but the Jackson’s were also known for something else, something that Emile thought was easily worse, to him at least. They didn’t just hunt animals; they hunted the supernatural- and especially the fae.

Emile stopped dead in his tracks. The glare his sister threw him was withering, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

His mother grabbed his arm roughly and pulled him forward, pasting on a brittle smile between the jab to his ribs. He tried his best to school his features into…impassivity… he couldn’t manage sweet or happy and he knew it. 

“Ah, and there she is!” Fredrick exclaimed loudly, “The not-witch.”

Emile flinched at the name. He knew he’d been called it in the village for years, but not many were game enough to say it to his face. They didn’t want to risk his anger if he _were_ a witch and didn’t want to feel the guilt if he wasn’t.

“Jackson,” he said, schooling his voice to neutrality.

“Oh, yes, yes, you were _right_ Maria, you cheeky little minx. I can practically see the magic on her, oh she will be a challenge.”

Oh, Emile could hardly stop himself from bristling.

Fredrick’s mother, Lucinda, ran her eyes over him savagely, and then sighed pointedly.

“Yes- you can see it in basically everything- the hair, the voice- just,” she paused gesturing her up and down, “All over. Either she is a witch or has consistent contact with something else of strong magic.”

She said that as though it made a bad smell appear under her nose. Emile barely contained the urge to bolt.

“Yes, mother and that is what will make her a challenge. I’m sure you’ll make a proper Jackson spouse of her eventually,”

“I happen to be a person, not a challenge, Fredrick, and would appreciate if you would treat me as such,” Emile said, voice firm despite his mother’s glare.

Fredrick waved his hand dismissively.

“What are her hobbies, again, Mrs Picani? How does she spend her free time?” his sister, Maria, asked.

“Well, she’s quite good at painting and writing, and telling stories... and likes walks in nature and the like. She’s also quite skilled at embroidery.”

“ _I_ happen to be able to talk for myself!”

His mother jabbed him in the ribs again.

“Hmm. Well, we will have to teach her a few things- respect, namely it seems. And dispel that awful charm on her hair, but this could work,” Mr Jackson said.

“Oh fantastic,” his mother said, ignoring the slight in the words, “It would be an honour to join our families Mr Jackson. My husband would be happy to discuss negotiations with you, while I discuss wedding plans with Lucinda.”

Emile squirmed. He just wanted to be at home, with a book, or with Sleep or really, anywhere but here.

Mr Jackson nodded curtly.

“Wonderful. Girls, why don’t you return home and give your grandmother of the good news.”

Emile immediately turned to flee.

“No, not you Emily, you should stay and get to know your future husband,” She said tightly.

“Oh, it’s no matter. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other after the wedding,” Fredrick said with what he probably assumed to be a winning smile.

Emile shuddered internally.

“Indeed. In that case,” she said making a face but waving Emile off.

He turned on heel immediately. He walked as fast as he could without looking like he was running. There was something welling up inside him. He couldn’t tell if it was panic, disgust or something else entirely.

His sisters trailed behind him, gossiping between themselves and giggling into their gloves. It didn’t take long to completely lose sight of them.

When he made it home, he collapsed at the dining table, not even with enough energy to make it to his room.

“Is he as bad as his father?” a voice asked from the doorway. Emile looked up, startled by his grandmother’s presence.

“what?”

“I said, is he as bad as his father. Fredrick, I mean.”

“Oh… well, that depends on what you think is bad.”

“Abhorrent personality, stuck up, hates anythin’ magical unless it’s one of their own weapons,” his grandmother suggested.

“I mean, yeah, he’s all of that- wait, don’t _you_ hate magic grandmother?” he asked, confused.

She stared at him for a long moment, her wrinkled face set in a mask. And then it broke, as she laughed.

“Hey- what are you- what’s so funny about that?” he exclaimed.

“Oh, oh you think that I _hate_ magic, little one? That does explain some things, indeed. No, of course I don’t hate magic, how could I? I’m a witch.”

Emile stared at her.

“But- you- but when we were younger, you told all those stories and- and…” he trailed off, more confused than before.

“I told you stories so you could protect yourself from the good neighbours, and other people usin’ magic against ya, kid. Not that you listened to a single one, mind.” She said, pinning him with a knowing stare.

He squirmed.

“Why do you think I taught you all those ways to test for magic- they’re magic in and of themselves, boy. Anyone can carry iron and holly berries on them, but it takes magic and will to do the rest.”

Emile’s head spun. And then, he paused, and something stuck out to him.

“Wait, what- what did you just call me?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer, but hoping so, so hard.

“Well, I called ya boy, and I ain’t calling you man, because you’re still far too young for that, kid, but it’s what ya are aren’t ya- don’t think I can’t tell these kinds of things. I thought we just established that I use magic. An’ speaking of, I think it’s about time I knew what name to actually call you, kid.”

“How did you know? When? I never said anything and- why did you never say anything… I thought that no one would understand… I… I’m Emile…” he said, surprised, sadness and hope warring for equal place in his tone.

“I knew before you were born. When you mama was pregnant with you, I tested, just as I did for all your brothers and sisters, and the magic told me you’d be a boy. Your parents thought I was looney when you were born, but I haven’t been wrong before or since, I knew it was just a matter of time…”

“Then why didn’t you say something, if you knew, why didn’t you… help me?”

She looked at him, and laughed, “You wouldn’ta accepted my help if I’d offered boy, don’t think I don’t know that. You were scared of me for years, and weary and distasteful after tha’. I knew my place. An’ besides, that boy of yours in the forest seemed to do a damn good job of it anyway.”

“He’s not _my_ boy- wait, you know about Sleep? I thought you hated the fae, how can you be so nonchalant about me- me being friends with one of them?”

As if that day couldn’t be any more confusing.

“Of course, I know about your boy- what kind of witch’d I be if I didn’t know about my grandson traipsing around in the woods with the prince of the fair folk. I was keepin’ an eye out for you. Now, this don’t mean I like them, mind, but he’s… he’d good for you, Em. I’ve seen him lookin’ after you, in a way that none of us here could. I don’t trust him… not for me, but for you… you help each other, don’t you?”

“I mean… I like to think so… but that doesn’t matter, anyway… I probably won’t be able to ever see him again, after I’m married.”

His grandmother snorted.

“I have no idea how your mother convinced the Jacksons to even talk to us- they’ve been out for my blood for forty years- but please tell me you ain’t actually thinkin’ of going through with this just ‘cause it’s what your mama wants, boy?”

“What else am I supposed to do, then? I can’t say no and stay here, and the only other option I have is… well…” he trails off, staring out the window at the forest in the distance.

“Ah, your boy has a way out does he?”

“He’s not my boy,” Emile repeated, “We’re just… friends…”

“Of course, you are, sweety, I haven’t seen you pining for months or anything.”

“Hey! I’m not that obvious- oh, oh darn…” he sighs, “I mean, yeah, he has a way, but I wouldn’t be able to leave the forest again, I don’t think… and he almost certainly hates me now, after my last visit.”

His grandmother levels him with a look for a very long moment, before sighing and resting a hand over his.

“There ain’t nothing here for you honey, I think we both know that. You’d be miserable with Fredrick, you ain’t no wife and you ain’t no Jackson, you’ve had magic in your veins since before you were born, an’ that boys only strengthened it… An’ if you ain’t either of those things, I think you’ll find it’ll be hard to be with the rest of this family, anyway. An’ that boy, he gave his word to protect you, if you wanted it, I can sense these kinds of promise’s Emile, an’ the fae ain’t gonna make them lightly. He loves you just like you love him,” her eyes were grim, but the hand on his was warm, and comforting.

He sighed, resting his head in his free hand.

“You’re right, probably- about the protection, not the liking me back- but I don’t- I can’t… what about you? and what about _them_ they’ll come looking for me, I know,” he said, voice small.

“Don’t you worry about me, boy. I’m old, but I still got enough left in me. I’ll come an’ visit you in those woods of yours,” she said with a strange grin, before her features turn serious once more, “An’ we’ll deal with them others, don’t worry. I have a plan.”

When his family returned that night, Emile joined them in their ‘festivities’. He pretended, as well he could when every lie still felt like a betrayal to a promise, that he was happy, that this was what he wanted.

He ate dinner with them and tried to ignore the burning the feeling of the letter in his pocket, that felt as though it would burn a hole through the cloth, and the thought of the bag, packed upstairs ready to flee.

He waited until both his sisters had gone to sleep before he dared enter their bedroom, changing as quietly as he could, pulling on warm, thick trousers and a coat. He took the bag, and crept downstairs, thinking his parents to be in bed. He laid the letter down on the table with the words, written as neatly as he could have in a shaking hand, face up, for the world to see.

_Dear Family,_

_Know that I love you, and will miss you dearly, but cannot remain. I cannot marry the man you have chosen for me, and I cannot continue to live a lie. I love another, and am not who you think I am. Please do not look for me, you will not like what you find._

_~~Your daughter, and sister, Emily~~ _

_Your brother, and son, E._

He couldn’t bring himself to lie, in his final message, and that strike through was the only alteration made.

The letter was his goodbye to his family, and as he took a moment, to have what he knew would be one, final, look around the kitchen he had grown up in, he said his goodbye to that place, and walked out the door.

He left the warmth of his house in favour of the cold, dark, outside, and began his trek into the woods.

Perhaps if he had taken a moment longer to look around that room, he would have noticed his father watching from the doorway.

Halfway to the tree, Emile heard noises. It was shouting, the yells of men and the bays of dogs. He turned and saw lights in the distance.

 _Oh. Oh, no_.

He ran. Before, he had been content to walk, but now, he fled with purpose. The path was dangerous at night, and the thorns reached for him at every opportunity, but he ignored every one that made contact. He had to _go_.

His breaths came in loud, puffing gasps, sending mist spiralling into the cold, and the crunch of his feet on snow was just as loud in his ears.

But then, ahead of him- More lights, not the ones of pursuers, but ones of safety. He tumbled into the clearing with the tree, and threw himself inside the house, still so cold, and curled into a shape as small as he could manage, on the pillows.

He hoped with every shred of his being, that Sleep would come, that he would know, and he would find him.

He could still hear the yells, the cries to split up or stay together, but in some moments, his frantic breathing overtook it.

 _Stop this_. He told himself. _You know better than this. Breath. Breath properly Emile._

He focused and schooled his breathing into something resembling normalcy. He steeled himself. He could do this. He was strong enough for this. He would hide, and they would not find him, or they would, and he would refuse to leave. He could do this.

Then, there was a hand on his shoulder, pulling him up. He wanted to scream, but there wasn’t enough air in his chest. And then he saw Sleep, and he stilled.

“Hey, hey babes are you ok, hey babes c’mon, what’s wrong?” he asked fluttering his hands all over Emile, checking for injuries.

“I’m- I’m here because I can’t do it, I can’t marry him. I missed you and I hate him and there’s nothing there for me and I love you enough that I could- I could be happy to be with you even just as your friend, but I can’t go back. I won’t.”

“Oh, oh Em, sunshine, darling, I wouldn’t ever make you go back,” he said, a hand on his cheek, “Of course I want you here with me. However you’ll have me… because… I love you too, my Sunshine.”

Emile’s heart stopped. He loved him. Sleep loved him. He could cry. Gods, he wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Hey! Over this way, there’s light!” he heard a yell, in the distance. Even from here, he could tell, it was Fredrick.

“Oh, no- oh- Sleep, that’s him... he’s- darn, no. I’ll have to face him, convince him to leave,” he jumped and started to pace, thinking

“Absolutely not, I might look like a lanky bitch, but I am stronger than you! and besides-” Sleep was cut off as Emile whirled around.

“I am _not_ a damsel in distress, Sleep, I came out here to save myself, and besides, he’s a magic hunter- He, if anyone, can hurt you, but he won’t touch me!”

“I was _going_ to say- ‘besides, I told you before about your promise’. They can’t take you, it’s against the magic.”

Emile’s mouth formed a comically round ‘O’. For a moment, he looked relieved, and then he blanched.

“Wait, is that- is it as strong as gifts you gave me for my hair and my voice?” he asked cautiously.

“About the same, yeah, babes,” Sleep said with a cocky grin.

“Then that won’t work, he- _His_ family seem to know how to dispel those kinds of things- I don’t know if it’s true but… I don’t like the risk.” He sighed, pacing again.

Sleep frowned.

“Well… then, babes… I was going to wait to suggest this… but… I- I was trying to find a way to, like, make sure they couldn’t take you if you did… come back, and to… be able to keep you with me, forever, after that.” He said slowly.

“And did you?”

Hesitance.

“Well, yeah babes… but, it’s a- it’s like a whole commitment and a half. It’s a lot. It’s a spell, old, fae magic. To take a human partner and give them the life of a fae while they remain bound to their… partner… only- only like super powerful fae can do it, and totally don’t like to brag, but I think that I can manage it… for you. No other magic, or dispelling, could remove that…”

“There- that has to be her, she’s not dumb enough to wander around in the dark out here,” the voice comes again, closer now.

“I’ll do it,” he says without thinking, not that he needs to.

Sleep looks startled, but nods and pulls Emile to the middle of the room, and laces both his hands through Emile’s.

“Here, in this moment, I call the world to witness me, as I ask you to join in my eternity. I ask of you three things, that I will return in kind, to bind us together, truly and fully. I ask first of you a proclamation of your heart, your feelings laid bare with no dishonesty,” Sleep didn’t waver in his clear recitation, staring directly into Emile’s face.

“My feelings… My feelings for you, with no dishonesty, are love, and trust, and loyalty. I love you, once as a friend and now as… whatever this is,” Emile’s voice did waver, as he tried to put to words the love he felt.

He also felt a little lightheaded, this was all so _fast_ but nothing about it felt… wrong. On the contrary, it felt like exactly where he needed to be.

“You are, quite literally my Sunshine. You brighten my day and everything around you, you make me as happy as I’ve ever been and there is nothing, I’d have over you. I’ve loved you ever since I’ve known what love was, as a friend, and now… as this… My sunshine.” He takes a deep breath and continues to recite as the yells outside carry closer, “I ask second of you that you swear your life and loyalty to me, that will last as long as this bond.”

“I swear my life and loyalty to you, the love of my life, with no regrets,” Emile said, feeling almost bold as he could sense the magic coursing through the air around him.

It felt like it was digging into his skin, taking root, and pulling him forwards. He leans towards Sleep, feeling like he had his own pull of gravity.

“And I swear my life and loyalty to you, with no regrets, my cheeky little human, who clearly is trying to outdo me in dramatic declarations of love, which is quite clearly criminal,” Sleep laughs, releasing his hand to rest a palm against Emile’s cheek, tenderly.

Emile leaned into the touch.

“I ask, third and finally of you, your true name, freely given in exchange, to bind us as one,” Sleep said, face so close to Emile’s he could barely focus on anything else.

“My name- My true name,” he said, breathing deeply, “Is Emile Picani, and I give this freely, in exchange.”

The magic around him clashes then, sudden bursts of sparks along his skin, searing but not burning, and leaving pleasant warmth in their place. It surges, and surrounds him, and it moves and pushes, it pushes him towards Sleep and then in a moment- it freezes, and it holds, and waits, like a wave caught just before the crash, a second away from spilling over and waiting for the push.

“And my true name, freely given, is Remy,” says- says Remy, and the magic falls.

It’s like a tidal wave, and a tree falling, and a hurricane. It catches on every part of him and pushes them together, their chests touch, their fingers still laced and Remy’s other hand still on his cheek, and it’s almost like they’re falling into exactly where the world wants them to be.

Their lips meet, and it would be remiss to say that it was _like_ magic- because it wasn’t just like magic, it _was_ magic, zipping through them at every connected point, like sparks between their lips.

It was wonderful, and everything, and perfect, and just a little awkward to experience _so_ much at one time. And then it was over, and the magic dimmed, and it was just them, and _something_ between them that Emile could only assume was whatever… that had been building.

And their second kiss was just as good as the first, less signing fire and more slow, tender caring, and understanding.

“I love you, Remy,” Emile said quietly.

“I love you too, my beautiful Emile,” He smiled as if the taste of his name on his lips were like wine, “I’ve waited years to be able to say that, and now, no one will stop me again.”

Emile could still hear the shouting, but as he rested his head on Remy’s shoulder, knowing that this- _this_ bond was unbreakable, he didn’t fear. He was strong, and standing side by side with Remy, he was stronger, and he wasn’t going back. He had everything he needed right there.


End file.
